


Fighting A Curse

by Chrysalin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Magical Accidents, Memory Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 02:59:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysalin/pseuds/Chrysalin
Summary: After Rumple disappeared during the midseason finale and they went back, Belle and Neal chose to return to the Dark Castle. What they found shocked and horrified them.AU from Rumple's death and their return to the Enchanted Forest, because the way he comes back in canon is dumb.





	Fighting A Curse

**Author's Note:**

> I'm moving old works over from Fanfiction.

Returning to the Enchanted Forest was almost more than Belle could handle so soon on the heels of Rumplestiltskin’s death. The weight of her golden ball gown had never felt more foreign, and even the gentle touch of the cloak he’d given her long ago was a painful reminder that she’d lost him forever. It wasn’t a separation prompted by dark magic or his fear of love. He had sacrificed himself to save them all. From his own father, no less, one of the many demons that had haunted his centuries-long life.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered. The rest of their party, the group that had emerged in the old world together, couldn’t hear her over the general arguments and the dull roar of distrust Regina still summoned simply by existing. Frustrated, she repeated the words more loudly. 

Neal took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know it’s hard, but what can we do?”

“I just want to go home. I don’t care about rebuilding. I gave it all up when I made my deal with Rumple anyway.”

“Home?” he repeated, curious. “Avonlea? Or Papa’s castle?”

“The Dark Castle is all that’s really left of him. I just need to be near that.”

For a long beat, Neal watched her. When she couldn’t bear those too-familiar eyes much longer, he nodded. “The castle it is. We can go as soon as I let the Charmings know.”

She forced herself to agree; the royal family was dealing with enough pressure without the added stress of searching for missing friends. Belle waited, her cloak pulled tightly around her, as Neal said their farewells and gathered more travel-appropriate clothes from the pile of goods Aurora and Phillip collected for them. Regina was the only one who watched them go. 

88888888

The journey to the Dark Castle was surprisingly quiet. She knew Rumplestiltskin’s lands were shielded by powerful spells, but there was no such magic keeping the beasts and bandits clear of the territories she and Neal had to cross to reach it. When the castle finally loomed over them, she felt like she was breathing for the first time since he’d vanished before her eyes. 

Rumplestiltskin, despite his inconsistencies and faults, and the terrible difficulties they’d faced, had been the person she loved more than anything. If she couldn’t have him, she at least wanted to be somewhere steeped in his memory. 

The magic didn’t resist her entrance, or Neal’s, and she supposed there was no reason for it to. Rumple made allowances for her when she came to the castle, and he would never have allowed a spell to separate his son from him if some miracle brought him home. The heavy wooden doors groaned as they opened.

A trilling laugh pierced the stillness of the grand hall, and Belle jolted in shock. Half convinced she was imagining it, she turned to Neal only to find him as surprised as she was. 

“Rumple,” she gasped. Her pack and cloak hit the ground as she trembled, unsure. The silence didn’t last; as soon as another echo reached their ears she was gone. It took Neal another few seconds to break through his tangled emotions and realize she’d left before pounding after her, afraid it was some sort of trap. 

She knew the castle, had spent long months cleaning its endless rooms, and Neal had to listen desperately for the quick footsteps or remnants of laughter to guide him. He found Belle hesitating at a door in one of the taller towers, one hand on the knob and the other covering her mouth. Tears were trickling down her cheeks. 

“That’s Rumple’s voice. I know it is.”

“It does sound like him,” Neal admitted, “but it could be a spell. It’s probably not real.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Logically, it couldn’t be him, right? We watched him die with Pan to protect us. But I have to see for myself.”

“We can check,” he promised, loosening his sword in its scabbard. “We just have to be smart about it. Go in armed and ready in case something tries to attack us.”

Belle nodded shortly, reaching for the dagger at her side as she eased the door open. It fell from her suddenly lifeless fingers with a dull clang as the room beyond came into view. 

It was undoubtedly Rumplestiltskin as Baelfire had last known him, at least in terms of appearance. Neal had tried to forget the mottled gold skin, the unnaturally brittle quality of his hair hair, and the claw-like nails of the Dark One, but those features turning his father’s gentle face into something terrible had haunted his nightmares for centuries. The noise from Belle’s dagger had him spinning, one hand glowing and raised, but he stopped once he saw his visitors. 

“Well!” he chirped. “If it isn’t the little maid and some new paramour. I thought you were already betrothed, dearie!”

“P-paramour?!” Neal sputtered. 

Belle took a few cautious steps forward. “Rumple? Is that really you?”

The Dark One frowned at her. “I don’t know who else you’d be expecting in my castle, in my private lab, no less. And where did you get that? You’re not supposed to leave the grounds.”

Her eyes widened in shock, but before it was enough for him to comment she bowed her head. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize I’d gone too far. I’ll send him away.”

“It’s getting awfully filthy in here!” Rumple called after her as she practically shoved Neal out of the room. “I expect it to be spotless by tomorrow!”

Belle hauled the dumbfounded man down the stairs and through countless corridors before slamming a door behind them and leaning into it, forehead braced on the unforgiving oak. 

“What was that?!” Neal demanded.

“I don’t… I have no idea. It was like some of the earlier days here all over again, after I was done always being afraid of him. We weren’t even friends yet.”

“He didn’t recognize me,” Neal said slowly. “At all.”

“He wouldn’t, would he? If I’m right and this is the Rumplestiltskin I worked for, he’d have no idea what you look like as a grown man.”

All the questions he wanted to ask dried up when he realized she was crying into her hands, hunched over and shaking like she was in pain. He decided to let that be all they said about it for a while and pulled her over to the bed in the little room’s corner, sitting on the end as she stretched out. After what felt like an eternity, Belle fell asleep. Exhausted by the troubled turn of events, he eventually did the same.

88888888 

“But how could this have happened?!” Neal demanded as Belle searched the castle pantry for anything edible the next day. The rations they’d brought were almost gone, and they would have to consider another course of action if there was nothing to eat. He’d come to the castle hoping to find a way back to Henry and Emma, but seeing his father in such a condition had driven the thoughts clear out of his mind. 

“I don’t know! I’ll try to find answers in the library, but Rumple himself is the one most likely to know anything. We should send for someone. There has to be a sorcerer in this land who could help.”

“There’s Regina.”

She shook her head wildly. “They were dangerous allies at best. He won’t trust her.”

“Can’t you ask him yourself?”

Belle scoffed, but the disagreement she might have given was swallowed by a sudden, agonized cry above. Her lovely face went pale, and Neal was again forced to trail her through the castle as she made her way unerringly to Rumple’s side. They found him kneeling in the middle of his lab, half of his possessions broken around him. The look on his face was one of abject despair, and he seemed to be looking straight through Belle as she tried to help him up. 

“You can’t help me,” he said dully. “You’re dead. Because of me.”

“No.” She pressed her hands to his cheeks, trying to force him to meet her eyes. “I’m really here. I’m alive. It was all a lie. The queen just wanted to hurt you.”

He pushed her away, but there was no malice in the gesture. He stood, brushing debris from his knees with an absent gesture, then pulled a little white and blue china cup from the air and cradled it as if it was a baby bird. 

“Belle,” he murmured to it. “I’m so sorry.”

Shaking her head as the tears threatened to return, Belle backed out of the room and fled. Neal hesitated before turning to his father and forcing a smile. “Sir? Do you need something?”

Rumplestiltskin studied him for a long moment. “You’re the boy she brought here. She was always trying to save wounded animals.” It took a great deal of effort to refrain from saying that, in this case, the Dark One was the injured thing Belle had to help. Rumple looked similarly unsettled, but his impish laugh slipped out as the persona he’d spent so long crafting took over. He wouldn’t let a stranger see his weakness. “I seem to have misplaced my housekeeper. Are you looking for work or would you prefer to spend the rest of your life as a slug?”

“Work,” Neal replied hurriedly. A slug wasn’t precisely the same as a snail, but it was still a pointed reminder of what his father was capable of. It seemed dangerous to tempt fate. “I was hoping for a job, and the woman in the village said no one had brought you straw lately.”

With a wave of his hand, the previously empty basket by the spinning wheel overflowed with it. “Shame you wasted a trip, then,” Rumple said with a half-deranged titter. “A slug it is!”

“Rumple, wait!” Belle cried from the door. 

The Dark One stilled automatically before curling in on himself. “You’re not really there. Belle is gone, forever. It’s not my fault.” He backed away every time she got closer, but once he reached the wall there was no more space to retreat and he slid down until he was sitting, eyes closed as if he was afraid to look at her.

Ignoring his constantly whispered stream of grief, Belle folded herself into his arms. His hand went up to stroke her hair automatically despite his claims, and now there were tears on both faces. The moment was horribly private, and Neal felt like the worst sort of intruder. When Belle waved him out, he was glad to go. 

88888888

It continued in a streak of endless pain. Almost every time they left him unattended, he seemed to slip into another aspect of his life. The most terrifying example came three days after their arrival, when another bloodcurdling scream filled the air. They found him in a heap on the floor, blood gushing from a wound in his chest as he plucked uselessly at the dagger embedded there. Their efforts to remove it were similarly fruitless, and in the end all they could do was carry him to his bedchamber to make him as comfortable as possible. 

He looked like the old Rumple now, which made it much worse. The Dark One seemed less human and therefore harder to empathize with. The fragile figure writhing on the bed was the crippled man Neal remembered caring for him as a child. He wept in pain and clutched at Belle every time she had to move for whatever reason, and though she smothered his face with kisses the damage continued to glare up at them. 

He begged them to end it even as he wished fervently for his son’s forgiveness, the first time he’d recognized him as such. When the agony seemed to reach its peak Neal was tempted to do as his father asked and let him die, but he was just reaching for his sword when the wound sealed without warning and he was looking at the Dark One again. 

“Who are you?” the wizard snapped waspishly. 

Instead of answering immediately, Neal eased his blade back into the scabbard and set it aside. Sensing his father’s mood changing to a less forgiving one, he looked up and hastened to reply. “It’s me… Papa.”

Now it was Rumple’s turn to say nothing. Finally, as though drawing the syllable from a great distance, he spoke. “Bae.”

“Yeah. I came home.”

“It can’t be. There’s a prophecy, and you’re all grown up. I just lost you a few days ago.” His expression grew cold. “You can’t be my son. Who are you really?”

“I can prove it,” Neal said doggedly. “I was there the day you stole the dagger from the duke’s castle. You killed our maid after she saw it even though she couldn’t tell anyone. I got a magic bean from the Blue Fairy to take us to a land without magic, but you were afraid and wouldn’t come. Papa, it’s really me.”

“Bae,” he said again, even more slowly. “Oh, my Bae. My boy.”

After hours of his father’s tears and whispered promises of change, Neal had to excuse himself before he cried like Belle already had so many times. She was sitting outside the door, head against the wall. 

She got to her feet in a hurry. “What happened?”

“He’s okay, at least physically. He’s the Dark One again and thinks I just disappeared a few days ago. God, I hate this. I hate him. No, I want to.”

“Everything he did then, even if it was horrible, was for you.”

“I know,” Neal said through gritted teeth. “I think that was the worst part of it. Realizing that makes it so much harder to stay angry with him. I spent years trying to avoid him, blaming him for everything, trying to run from the fact that it was really my fault.”

She reached for his shoulder, trying to be comforting even though he wasn’t the only one falling apart. “He wouldn’t want you to think that way.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? My father would have lived and died a normal man if I hadn’t told that soldier I was old enough to be drafted. None of this would have happened. All the terrible things he did, all the people he killed, even the Dark Curse; it’s all on my head.”

Frustrated, Belle shook her head. “That’s just not true. No matter what his motivations, no one is responsible for Rumple’s actions but him. He would say the same thing. Why do you think he tried so hard to redeem himself in Neverland?”

Neal shrugged her hand off and walked away, needing to clear his head. 

88888888

If Rumplestiltskin had been more responsive to Belle initially, Neal was the one who had to handle his care after his sudden reversion. This was the Dark One of the early days, still drunk on his new power and completely unaware of the role the brunette woman would play in his life. Neal had to warn her away more than once when his father’s volatile moods nearly ended in her getting hurt. He was less concerned with himself, since even in the depths of his insanity Rumple was careful not to harm his son. He slowly became less erratic, settling into a deal-making aspect instead of the wild magician. After a painfully long silence, he began to recognize Belle again and give instructions like she was still working for him. She obliged, not willing to upset him.

Throughout that, Neal was witness to one of the most astounding things he’d ever seen. His father was falling in love. Belle had told him their story on the way to the castle, but he’d barely believed it. He could read the emotions on Rumplestiltskin’s face every time he thought no one was looking, the way his gaze lingered on Belle as she dusted or trimmed the stems of a vase full of roses. The deal-maker softened and fell away, leaving behind a version of the Dark One he’d never seen before. This one was quiet and hesitant, more like the man he’d been before the power than Neal would have thought possible.

Despite the more positive developments, they remained in a precarious situation. Rumple seemed to be cycling through his existence as the Dark One at an accelerated pace, aging years within days. They couldn’t ask him what brought him back to life, since he only had memories he would’ve possessed at that point, and if the pattern continued he’d wind up suffering untold agonies, a knife in his heart. The messengers they’d sent to the realm’s magic users had gone unanswered, and Belle’s searches of the library continually proved fruitless.

Things soured again when he came down one morning to find his father raging at Belle. She didn’t fight back, but the tears and tightly clenched fists said enough. She had to relive the nightmare with him, and it wasn’t right. He was her friend as much as he was his father’s son, and he didn’t know how to handle watching them both fall apart. Eventually he muscled his father away and sent Belle outside, hoping she’d be able to calm down if they were separated. 

That proved similarly counterproductive. As soon as Belle was out of his line of sight, Rumplestiltskin immediately lapsed into the anguished depression that had been their first glimpse of the cycle. Without Belle there, he again believed she was dead for the apparently unforgiveable sin of going with him. The dagger appeared not much later. On and on it went.

88888888

“The cycles are out of balance,” Belle observed finally.

They had noticed very quickly that each rotation went more swiftly than the last, until there were only hours at best between stages. 

Neal spared a glance at his father. It was the long stretch between the fading of his early madness and the awakening Belle gave him, and he was spinning quietly in the corner. If they weren’t loud, he would essentially forget they were there. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve both seen how much less time we get before this starts over, but that’s not all. The phases aren’t proportional to what Rumple initially experienced. The worst parts – losing us, and dying – they’re lasting longer than they should compared to everything else. If it continues, I think the cycle will collapse.”

“What does that even mean?”

She studied him over the edge of the book. “He’ll die. It’s a fatal wound.”

Neal leapt to his feet and began pacing, ignoring the way Rumple started at the sudden movement before returning to the wheel and the endless production of gold. “What caused all this anyway? Can’t we fix it?”

Belle sighed and shut the book after slipping a bit of ribbon in to mark her page. “I could hazard a guess, but that’s it.”

“That’s better than what we’ve got so far. No one’s even tried to help us.”

“Based on what you’ve told me about Rumple becoming the Dark One and the few books in the library, stabbing the Dark One with the dagger gives that person their powers, right?”

Neal nodded, bewildered. “What about it?”

“Rumplestiltskin stabbed himself with the dagger. Since we were in a world where the Dark One’s curse isn’t supposed to exist, I think things may have gotten jumbled up. He wasn’t quite the Dark One, so it considered him the one taking the Dark One’s powers, but since he’s still the Dark One in every other sense, he’s dying to give them.”

“If you’re making a point, I don’t get it.”

“He’s created a paradox in which he’s taking the Dark One’s powers but dying as a result. Eventually the paradox has to resolve itself, and the only sensible solution would be his death.”

“But there has to be a way to stop it! What about true love’s kiss?”

Belle shook her head. “I’ve tried, every time he’s lying there in so much pain. Ever since the first time, it hasn’t worked.”

“First time?”

“After I met Regina, I came back and kissed him. He started to turn into a normal man.”

Neal’s face fell. “So all we can do is keep him comfortable until we lose him again.”

She blew out a long, tortured breath. “I don’t know. I can’t think of any other possibility.”

88888888

They fought for him, trying everything they could think of to take away his pain and stop the cycle’s downward spiral. It didn’t help, and soon his happier times lasted minutes while the suffering seemed to stretch on forever. 

Desperate, Neal turned to Belle. “You’re sure true love’s kiss can’t help?”

“I told you, I’ve tried!” she protested. 

He froze suddenly, mind racing. “It’s the paradox.”

“What?”

“He’s not really the Dark One at the end. That’s what you said. Have you ever kissed him outside that part? When he’s still all scaly and not bleeding?”

“Yes, of course I – wait. No. Except that first time, I’ve only ever kissed him while he was Mr. Gold. I haven’t kissed Rumplestiltskin!”

“Try it,” he begged. “He’s running out of time.”

“But he’s not Rumple now!” 

It was true. The skin on his father’s face was ashen and lined with pain, not shining gold. He looked out the window, silently begging the sun to spin faster so they would have a chance. It began to sink beneath the horizon, excruciatingly slow, and as it did the scales slid back across Rumplestiltskin’s skin. The wound was gone again. Belle took a few steps back automatically, too many close calls reminding her that Rumple wasn’t stable in the beginning. Neal tried to pull her back, but she resisted. 

“This isn’t my Rumple. He doesn’t know me yet, so he can’t love me.”

Know – love – The thoughts shot through his mind like a rocket. “What about me? It doesn’t have to be romantic love, right?” Henry, and Storybrooke itself, had been saved by Emma’s undying love for their son. True love was more than the sort found in fairy tales.

“I don’t know. It’s worth a try.”

Neal leaned in and pressed a kiss to his father’s cool forehead. He could feel the magic move and shift, but the difference was small and he was afraid he’d failed. “Belle!”

“It’s the curse!” she moaned. “It doesn’t want to be destroyed; that’s why I only started to break it the first time. One isn’t enough!”

Rumple was staring at them in consternation now, not recognizing either but sensing that something was wrong. Finally, his eyes softened and he reached for Belle, murmuring her name. 

Her face became fierce. She hurried closer and slid into his arms before seizing his face and pulling him in. Neal looked away, a little embarrassed, but that was overwhelmed in short order when a powerful burst of energy ripped through the chamber, shaking the castle’s very foundations. For a moment, everything was silent. 

“Belle?”

The tone was a little gruff, but the low accent was so familiar he thought his heart would stop. Turning back, he saw her struggling to support Rumple as he slumped against her, one hand pressed to his ribs. A little blood trickled between his fingers, but it was nothing compared to the gaping hole they’d seen so many times. 

“Papa?” he demanded, afraid to believe it. 

He looked up. “Bae. Belle. Where – what happened? I should be dead.”

Belle choked on a low laugh before tucking her face into the crook of his neck. “You almost were. You scared me, Rumple. We were afraid you wouldn’t make it.”

He was an intruder again, Neal realized. By rights, Belle was the one who managed to solve their dilemma, both in determining the source of the problem and providing the magic that remedied it. He would give them their moment and send word to the Blue Fairy. She owed him some healing magic at least. They all did, for what he’d sacrificed to save them. 

When he came back, Rumple was struggling to his feet while Belle tried to persuade him to lie down and rest. His bad leg threatened to plunge him to the ground, but Neal managed to catch his arm in time to stabilize him. 

“You’re still bleeding, Papa. You should be more careful and listen to Belle.”

Rumplestiltskin looked down at the blood soaking through his silk shirt. “This is nothing,” he said with a wave of his hand. Just like that, it was gone. Belle gasped. 

“You did magic,” Neal said slowly. “But you’re not the Dark One now.”

Rumple had been shocked as well, but he recovered quickly. “It makes sense. I was the Dark One for hundreds of years, and I taught more than one pupil. I’d be a terrible teacher if I didn’t know how to do it myself.” He flexed his fingers. “I think the difference is the power. Being the Dark One gave me almost unlimited black magic, but that small healing spell was enough to make me very tired.”

“That could be from the wound as much as the magic,” Belle suggested. 

He nodded. “It’s possible. It will take time to discover just how much of my ability I’ve lost. I need to mend my leg again as soon as possible.”

“No,” Belle said adamantly, surprising them both. “No more magic, Rumple. You know what it does to you.”

After a beat, Rumple smiled. “You worry so much for me. I have no need for dark power now. As much as you may dislike my using magic, the fact remains that it is part of who I am and I have no other way to provide for you. I will be careful, though, and you may feel free to pull me back if you ever think I’m going too far.”

Sensing that was the best she would get, Belle reluctantly acquiesced and helped him to his feet while Neal went to fetch his staff. Rumple accepted it gratefully and shifted most of his weight to it so he didn’t put too much pressure on Belle. 

“Before… all this,” Neal said suddenly, “I came here hoping you could get me back to Storybrooke. I need to find Emma and my son.”

Rumple sighed. “I don’t know, Bae. It took hundreds of years and the most powerful dark curse in the world to reach that land, and Regina’s breaking it means all the old routes are closed. There may not be a way back.” He held up a hand against his son’s protests. “But I will try.”


End file.
